


The Room Where It Happened

by TheWholeDamnTime



Series: Modern Vox Machina [2]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Character Study, Multi, Scanlan's Mansion, Vox Machina Adoptive Misfit Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-10-02 22:06:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10228526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWholeDamnTime/pseuds/TheWholeDamnTime
Summary: When Scanlan bought his "mansion", it was a barely-held-together collection of walls,maybea door, and not much else. With Vox Machina's help, it grew into a home they were all proud of. They all put themselves into their work, and one room exemplified them together, their mismatched pieces haphazardly overlapping with each others to form a whole.A collection of stories stemming from the guest room, examining the characters and the relationships between them.





	1. The Room

Scanlan managed to buy a house a mere few months after they’d met him, a culmination of years of hard work and earnings. It was a ramshackle place fifteen minutes from the center of town, perched on the edge of the woods and looking worn to all hell. The roofing was coming off, the insides were dated, broken, and barely holding together, and there was no furniture or appliances to speak of. The plumbing and electrical outlets thankfully worked, but there wasn’t much else to speak of but bare walls and broken doors, the smallest overgrown garden in the back, and an inch-thick layer of dust over everything.

He loved it.

Within the first few days of his ownership, he’d moved all his things in and had roped his friends into helping him tidy up. Grog was eager to help with anything construction related, while Percival sighed and relented to help with repairs on weekends. As the project progressed, though, he seemed to increasingly care about its success and would even show up with the occasional appliance he’d fixed up from unusable junk to fully-functioning again. The twins, of course, were artists and Keyleth was nearly as good as they were, and so he’d begged and wheedled and persuaded until they promised to paint everything once it was repaired on the condition that they could do murals and paintings over the open spaces. He readily agreed to the term, and slowly the place started to take shape around them.

There was one room that was the culmination of everyone’s work and input more than all others, the place that belonged to everyone with its assortment of decorations and living supplies scattered amongst it, pieces of furniture and clothing from each of them and placed with care, a place where they each could come whenever they needed and rest. It was a place of sanctuary that belonged to them all, and there was a certain comfort to its menagerie of furniture and chaotic cluster of decorations.

Of course, it didn’t start that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I was writing out Scanlan's Mansion, I had to account for the fact that the other members crash there. A lot. So I made a guest room, and in furnishing it, I realized how much it represented the mishmash that makes up the team's dynamic and relationships. There were some stories there, so here- a cluster of stories attached to each decoration of the room. Per usual, prompts are accepted and encouraged for this universe, and feel free to input your opinion on how I should list the relevant headcannons for you guys. Hope you all enjoy, and please remember that my soul survives off of your comments!
> 
> Title from Hamilton, because my sister got me into it and I've had random songs off the soundtrack popping into my head for the past week.


	2. The Bed

The room, the same as the rest of the rooms, started out as empty.

It didn’t stay that way for long.

Within the first few weeks of Scanlan’s moving in, it was dubbed “the drunk room” and had an old mattress someone had gotten off of craigslist in the corner. Another week after that, Percy had put together a rudimentary bedframe and polished it into usability, letting Keyleth stain the wood to match the blue grey walls she was painting with the twins before he sealed it. Unfortunately, he’d assembled it in his garage, leading to-

“Ow! Goddammit, Grog, _turn_ the frame. I don’t want to be slammed into another corner, thank you,” snarled Vax’s voice, everything but his fingers curled around the wood obscured by the large headboard.

“Sorry,” the large man huffed in quiet laughter, twisting the bedframe.

“ _Ow! Fuck!_ ”

“Sorry.”

“ _Fingers_ , Grog!”

“ _Sorry_.”

Vex and Keyleth watched the other twin’s back with amusement as they painted, each covered in varying splatters of paint across their clothing and their bodies. Strings of curse words floated into the room and down the hallway, punctuated by spontaneous bursts of Grog’s laughter or the occasional apology. Finally, after nearly a half an hour of this slapstick comedy show-

“Brother?” Vex’ahlia asked, her voice light and teasing with amusement as it floated through the air.

“ _What?!_ ”

“Have you considered taking the bed _apart?_ ” There was an immediate pause as her brother froze in place, his mind spinning as he realized what his twin was implying. He let out a long sigh.

“Grog, put the bed down.”

“Okay.”

 _Clunk_.

Vax groaned and slid into a sitting position, his head resting on the wood in exhaustion while his sister laughed. Keyleth tried to cover her giggles with her fingers, accidentally adding another streak of green to her cheek, and he let out another groan. Grog stared on with a mixture of mild amusement and confusion, having not heard the other twin’s suggestion. Percy then appeared around the doorframe, his glasses making his wide eyes at the sight in front of him appear even more comical and only serving to increase Vex’s guffaws.

“I was getting tools for this, you know,” the mechanic said, staring down at his partially obscured friend. Vax just let out another groan in response. There was a moment of pause, the only sound Vex’s slowly subsiding chuckles, then- “Are you quite all right?”

“Fine, Percival.” There was another moment of Percy staring before he shrugged and turned to a smirking Grog, proffering the screwdrivers in his hand.

“Here you are,” he offered, handing off the tools before stepping around the wooden frame and into the room. Carefully, he moved to stand with the girls, looking up at the colorful mural that was starting to spiral across the wall. “I love the colors,” he said, looking back from the wall to the two of them.

“Aww, Percy, I’d hug you but-” Keyleth said, gesturing at her paint-streaked form.

“It’s appreciated.” At this, Vex smirked and reached up to smear a line of blue across his cheek, sending him reeling back in surprise. Keyleth giggled and reached forward towards him as well, managing to get a dab of green on his forehead before he stepped out of their range.

“Now you match the wall,” Vex laughed, grinning at his discomfort. “Don’t worry, darling, it should come off after a day or two. And at least the blue goes with your coat!”

“It’s paint, I’m sure I can get it off,” he huffed, looking so put out that Vex collapsed in laughter again and Keyleth reached for his face with a yellow glob on her fingers. He caught her by the wrist before she could, though, and managed to step out of the room without increasing the color palette on his skin.

“Aww, we scared off Percy.” Keyleth’s smile contradicted the slight disappointment in her voice, and she moved back to dab and smear the paint on the walls, smoothing it with her fingers at first before moving to a brush and finishing the swirl. Vex’s giggles finally died down as well and she joined her, the two girls making their way across the space with a rainbow of color bursting from a corner of the wall and filling the space.

* * *

 

In the next few hours, the boys finished their disassembly and subsequent reassembly of the bedframe, and the first layer of paint was drying on the wall. Most everyone was in the living room drinking, but Vex was touching up a few of the sparser areas of the mural. She was nearly done when she felt eyes from the doorway, a quiet feeling pressing on her back. Slowly, she looked up to see Percy standing there, arms spilling over with navy blue sheets, a comforter, and pillows. Her brow furrowed and she stood, wiping the wet paint from her arms and tilting her head as she faced him.

“Here,” he said stiffly, his face steely flat despite the cheerful colors still drying on his skin. “For the bed.” The mechanic gestured towards the bare mattress, as if his sentence hadn’t made it clear, and as Vex watched him with a furrowed brow he simply shoved the linens into her arms and left. Before she could blink he was turning into the hall, and mere seconds later she heard the front door slam.

She listened for a few seconds more, but didn’t hear the rumble of Bad News in the driveway, so he hadn’t left. Throwing the linens on the bed, she stepped out of the room to peek through the front windows. Percival had wandered past his beat-to-hell truck and was leaning against a tree alongside the road, lighting a cigarette and taking a long draw. She watched as he let out the stream of smoke from between his lips and tilted his head back to look at the stars. He seemed off somehow, and so Vex went into the kitchen and mixed them each a drink, making his a little heavier on the Jack. Her footsteps were soft and the door thankfully didn’t creak, so he only looked up when she spoke.

“Those will kill you, you know.” He didn’t seem surprised by her appearance, taking the proffered drink and taking a sip before replying.

“I know.” He didn’t offer anything more, and Vex’s brow bunched in worry. She watched as he put the lit stick back between his lips and breathed in, his gaze not meeting hers and instead looking back up at the night sky. She let him have a moment before reaching out to tug him to sit at the base of the trunk. He let her guide him and she settled next to him, her side brushing against his as they sat in silence. Finally, as he tried to take a third breath of smoke, she reached out and plucked it from between his lips, placing it on the ground and grinding it beneath her foot. He didn’t react for a moment, just watched the twisting movement of her boot on the dirt. There was a slow sigh with just the smoke of a cold night mingling with a warm breath as he reached for his pocket again, but she grabbed his wrist and held it there.

“Percival, look at me.” Her voice was stern, steady, and his gaze slowly raised to meet hers. _Good_ , she thought, eyes fixated on his. “Something’s wrong. Talk to me.” The moment dragged out and she kept her grip firm on his wrist, eyes locked on his. Finally, he relented and let his hand relax away from the pocket, his eyes finally breaking away from her own and casting his gaze back to the dirt road.

“What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to tell me what’s got you in this mood,” she replied immediately, leaning forward to get a better look at his face. He didn’t reply, just scuffed his shoe against the dirt and avoided her gaze. “You were fine when we were getting the bedframe into the room, but when you came back you were-” she gestured to him, and his head slowly nodded in understanding. She let the moment rest, let the silence swallow up whatever words she was going to say. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, a single sentence broke through the quiet.

“Those were my brother’s.” She didn’t reply, rather let the silence follow his words as she pressed her side to his, letting warmth radiate between them. Percy hardly talked about his family, and no one knew much beyond that he had many siblings and they had all died in a horrific manner except a single sister. She couldn’t imagine losing Vax, much less losing a multitude of people who meant as much to her as he did. Slowly, she reached her arm around his shoulders and wrapped the other around his front, tugging him closer to her in a sideways hug. He let his head come and rest on her shoulder, letting himself relax on her steady form.

“They were simply gathering dust. There’s no reason not to use them.” She just barely nodded her head as he spoke, the words in a rush as if he was trying to justify their use to himself as well as her.

“Of course, dear.” The reassurance poured from her lips with ease, and she squeezed him tightly in her arms.

“It would be better if they were being used,” he sighed, and she nodded once more, only retracting her arms when he righted himself again. “I’m so sorry I dragged you into this, I-” Vex cut him off with a raised finger, her eyes locked on his with a steady calm.

“Are you going to be all right, darling?” He let out a long breath and ran a hand through his shock-white hair, letting the tension drain from between them as the air drained from his lungs.

“Yes.”

“Good,” she said, standing and offering a hand. He took it and rose, Vex giving his hand a squeeze before leading him to the door without letting go, their drinks in their free hands and quiet comfort in their loosely intertwined fingers as they returned to the clamor inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey loves! My editor is currently busy as all hell, so take this unedited chapter that I'm sure I'll look at later and find six or seven errors with. (Feel free to notify me of said errors as well, it'd be an amazing help <3) I hope you enjoy, and please remember your comments are my lifeblood!!!


	3. The Curtains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pike's contribution and childhood, and how she and Grog became siblings.

Pike was seven, and she was _bored_.

Second grade was starting in two weeks, and until then, it was just her and her new brother and the summer sun. Phillip (he told her not to call her that, but she really didn’t know what _else_ to call him) was outside, riding his bike in circles around the front yard and up and down a small ramp he and grandpa had built the weekend prior, grinning as he tried to gain more and more speed and lift. That wasn’t Pike’s realm as much, not when the sun was so blazingly, painfully hot in the sky and there was so much danger of bodily harm. That was more her sibling’s forte, and Wilhand had already patched him up more than once within the few weeks he had moved in.

When she finally got around to expressing this boredom to her grandpa with a dramatic crumpling motion into the couch beside him, he simply smiled and gestured for her to follow him. They sat together at the table and showed her a basic stitch, letting her practice on some scraps of fabric until she'd perfected the motion. Then he smiled and told her she could decorate anything of hers she wanted, letting her choose. As she glanced around the room, the sheer curtains fluttered in the breeze and caught her eye. They were plain, white, with a simple hem along the bottom and all the potential in the world. 

She started with gold thread. It contrasted nicely against the white, giving it an elegant shimmer like sunlight. It started simple, with decorative swirls and shapes, but slowly became more complex as her skills sharpened. She interwove little suns, starbursts, and flowers, the patterns blooming from the edges and crawling every closer to the center. Progress was slow, especially when her small fingers had to backtrack from a fumbled or misplaced stitch, but Pike enjoyed the work. It kept her mind and hands busy for the remaining long summer days. 

* * *

 

It was the first day of school, the first recess she was free on the older kids’ playground, and she was already in trouble.

“What’s with your _hair?_ ” the boy in front of her said, face screwing up like he’d smelled something terrible, and she felt a little pang in her chest. He was flanked by two others, some kind of twisted bravado in their stances, but all Pike could think of was it was her first day and she was already being marked as _different_.

“It’s just white,” she said with a shrug, eyes affixed to the rough blacktop.

“You look like a grandma!” he laughed, reaching forward and yanking harshly on the braid. Pike cried out and tried to push him away, but lost her balance and fell to the asphalt instead, impacting with a painful scraping of knees. Her blue dress pooled around her and she felt tears springing to her eyes. Quickly wiping them away, she forced herself back up and squared her shoulders, staring up at the older boy with a trembling lip and false bravado.

“S-s-stop,” she stuttered out, her lip trembling and tears blurring the image of him before her. He simply laughed and grabbed at the braid again. His hand barely missed as she darted back, turning and running with tears streaming down her face. The boy was hot on her heels, the scuffing of his feet driving her to run faster as tears blurred her vision and it was all she could do to simply not fall over.

She made it across the playground and around the main building when she saw the fence and realized she’d trapped herself. Legs still wobbly, she turned to see the huffing boys appear around the corner. Her eyes were wide as their lax lips twisted into sickening smiles as they came to the same conclusion she had. Her breaths became light and fluttery like butterfly wings as panic creeped its claws around her lungs. Shaky steps scraped against the sidewalk, her fingers trembling as they took slow, confident steps towards her.

That was when she saw the tall, lurking figure stepping towards them, breaking from a confident stride to a full run as he got closer. The tall form of Phillip burst past the group of them and stepped in front of her, turning so his large hand was holding her behind him with a gentleness that was in complete contrast to the look of bloodlust set with his jaw and narrowed in his eyes.

“Don’t. Touch. Her.” Each word was a low growl, separated in slow, steady increments that ramped up the tension with each second the stretched. The other boy took a step back, but something steely was set in his eyes as he glared back at the boy in front of him.

Then, without a word, he took a swing at her brother.

The fight maybe lasted four or five seconds, but it felt incredibly long as Pike watched the person who had been defending her get punched in the jaw, the eye, the cheek with wild blows. He tried to block them, tried to push the bigger, older boy away, but instead took another punch to the jaw, his head snapping to the side.

That was when she screamed.

It carried like nothing else, piercingly shrill and wordless across the playground. There was a moment of frozen silence as everyone realized that things were no longer private, another of sudden panic as fast footsteps started to rush in their direction.

“Run!” yelled one of the other boys, fear in his eyes. There was a moment of panicked scattering from the group, a chaotic blur of not knowing where to run before Ms. Vysoren sprinted around the corner, her eyes wide and worried. Seeing them, she raised her hand in front of her and the boys froze in horror, locked in place as if by magic. As she took steady, calm steps forward, her gaze stayed locked on the group of them. Her jaw was set and they could see the fire in her eyes as she regarded the scene before her. The footsteps stopped just a foot before the boys, blue eyes narrowing as she broke the tension with terse words.

“Crysa, Fendril, Jurazel, _explain yourselves_.” There was a moment of silence that hung heavy, and Pike let out a small sniffle. Strongjaw was sitting up now, holding the side of his face, and she saw Ms. Vysoren’s eyes soften as they moved to look at the two of them on the blacktop. “Pike, Phillip, go to the nurse’s office and get cleaned up. The rest of you,” she continued, her gaze becoming a glare once more, “come with me. We’re going to the Principle’s office.” They watched, slightly stunned as the teacher led the boys away, and Pike reached forward to take her brother’s hand.

“Come on, let’s go.”

The nurse was kind but firm, tutting as she sat Phillip on the table and bustled around for disinfectant cream and a baggie of ice. She’d seen Pike more than her fair share, not for injuries but because the young girl had a habit of being a miniature caretaker for anyone who hurt themselves, taking them to the office hand in hand. After a few scrapes were patched up and an ice pack was being pressed to the rapidly darkening eye, they were hustled off to the Principle’s office, siting outside on the chairs, waiting for the door to open and to be invited inside. Pike watched carefully as her brother reached up and rubbed his jaw with a free hand, gritting his teeth as he tried to massage away the pain.

“You took a lot of punches.” The edge of his lips curled up, and he let out a little huff of satisfaction, making her smile. “Maybe I should start calling you Strongjaw instead of Phillip,” she joked, nudging him with her elbow.

“Yeah.” There was something a little more serious about his tone now, and she leaned forward to get a better look at his expression.

“Yeah?” she asked, tilting her head and her voice settling into the more serious notes he’d adapted. He nodded as his mouth morphed to grin at her through swollen bruises and she beamed back at him.

“Yeah.”

“Strongjaw, then.”

* * *

 

The principle didn’t have strong words for them- rather, he looked concerned for her brother’s injuries and promised as soon as they recounted their stories for him and Granpapa Wilhand showed up they could go home. The timing was near-perfect, her panicked grandfather practically flying into the office and grabbing them each into a tight, protective hug. After thanking Strongjaw for protecting his sister, he made sure they could leave and rushed them out the door, taking them home and settling them inside.

Strongjaw wanted to spend the day outside, playing, but Wilhand still had to go back to work. As he told the disappointed boy, “People don’t stop hurting, so I don’t stop working!” he made sure they had food, open windows, and anything they might need before he could come back and check on them his next break. Instead of the outdoors, they ended up sitting on the couch together, a slab of raw beef pressed to Strongjaw’s eye and Pike’s hands diligently working on another corner of the curtains. There was an almost sulky expression on his face, a mixture of disappointment, pain, and frustration, and left something unsettled in Pike’s stomach. Her fingers worked in a flurry, her mouth pressed in a thin line of focus.

“Look, Strongjaw!” she called, lifting it so he could see the symbol she had stitched within the elegant swirling patterns. Good eye and black eye alike flickered over to the symbol, painfully red scraped jaw twitching into an aching smile as he made out each of the fingers wrapped around each other, clasping each other tight. “It’s our hands!” The smile spread larger across his face.

“That’s pretty cool.” She grinned back, holding it before her with something warm blossoming in her chest.

“It is, isn’t it!”

“Yeah.” He sat there, head tilted as the sun shone through the threads. After a long pause, he bowed his head and looked away. “Can you… can you show me?” Pike couldn’t help but feel happiness shoot through her as she reached out and grabbed his hand.

“Of course!”

Strongjaw broke more needles than he properly used, but Pike loved it anyways.

* * *

When they moved, Pike packed everything she owned with care. The art on the walls was packed away, the curtains taken down and folded into boxes, her bedframe broken into base parts and stacked in the moving van. Each thing was meticulously marked off on her checklist and then re-checked when she just wasn’t sure, but soon the van was packed and the siblings were saying goodbye to their grandfather with all the tearful hugs and goodbyes the event warranted. As they drove away, Strongjaw didn’t comment on the tears pearling in her eyes, just handed her a tissue.

When they arrived at their new apartment, she unpacked each box with deliberate care. The walls became covered with artwork, the shelves with trinkets and images from their lives, and slowly but surely the place became their own. Rarely, they would have something that couldn’t be fit in. Most wasn’t sentimental, and was posted to craigslist and gone within the next week. But as Pike unpacked the curtains, fingers running over the thin gold threads and tugging a small smile over her lips, she looked up and felt the sentiment drop from her face. Four full-length sheer curtains were tucked neatly into the box and as she looked up at the single window of her room, she felt her heart fall a little in her chest.

They didn’t fit in around the house, no matter where she tried to find a space for the second pair, they never quite felt right. A furrow in her brow, she tucked the second pair away in a drawer of her armoire, safe for whenever she might be able to use them next.

* * *

 

“Isn’t it perfect?”

Keyleth was spinning in a circle, skirts and shawl spinning in a halo around her, arms spread wide and eager grin splayed across her face. She spiraled to a halt, grinning at where Pike leaned against the doorframe. “I added some last touches to the mural, and Percy left the bedsheets, and all we need are some art pieces and window coverings-”

“Wait, window coverings?”

“Yeah!” The florist’s hands paused in the middle of mapping out where everything needed to go, suspended in the air in a wide gesture. “Do you have some?” Pike’s eyes ran over the window, her lips pulling into a small smile.

“Come on, we need to go to my place.”

Twenty-five minutes later, Pike was sitting on Keyleth’s shoulders, hanging the curtain rod and placing her hands on her hips to admire the way the sun reflected on the thin gold threads.

“This is so pretty,” cooed the florist, turning to set her friend down on the bed. “Did you do this yourself?”

“Yeah, this was the first project after Grog came into our family. See, these are our hands over here-” she said, pointing to the enclosed hands in the frame. A small, reminiscing smile tugged across her lips. “This was one of our first bonding moments.”

Keyleth hopped onto the bed and crossed her legs. “Tell me?” Pike smiled and settled next to her friend, eyes watching the fabric flutter in the light breeze.

“It feels like forever ago. When we were kids…”

Pike recounted their childhoods to the florist, smiling as she spun the tale. There was something settled and content resting in her chest in the room, a piece of her past fitting into a place that something in her knew would be her future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies! Still trying to work on finishing up all the crazy concepts that my muse threw at me during last quarter's finals, amidst the encroaching danger of this quarter's finals and the chaos of trying to get an internship before summer. Gods save my poor, school-broken soul (and my editor's, who isn't able to edit this because she's eating math for breakfast, lunch, and dinner- best of luck to her). Anywho, I hope you enjoy this chapter I was able to churn out, and please remember your comments and critiques mean the world to me!


	4. The Bookshelf

Tiberius Stormwind was a member of a proud family, going back generations in their city, the name on its own laboratory facility donated to the prestigious local college, and carrying weight among all who lived there. And he _hated_ it.

The moment he turned eighteen, he packed up what things and money he had and set off to Tal’dorei to find his own way. He took as little money as possible and found a roommate on craigslist, a wild-haired hippie setting forth into the real world for the first time. They met for the first time in the flower shop below the studio apartment they were hoping to share.

“Hi! You must be Tiberius!”

She was a whirlwind, a force of nature that whirled out of the bright shop in a blur of colorful skirts and flame-touched hair to grasp onto his awkwardly outstretched hand with a two-handed shake. His usual introduction faltered on his tongue as she only let go with one hand to pull him towards the building chattering wildly about something he couldn’t process before faltering and dropping his hand at the door. “I mean- I’m sorry, we haven’t had a proper introduction or anything, I’m just- it’s just- I’m sorry. Yeah, sorry.” Her cheeks were practically glowing as he took in everything that had happened in the last thirty seconds before straightening his glasses and coughing slightly.

“Hello,” he started, rather stiffly. Her face fell, and he let his posture fall into a more relaxed and gentle position as he continued. “Erm- I mean, hi. My name is Tiberius Stormwind, and I hail from Draconia.”

“Oh, so we’re both new here, then!” she beamed, perking up once more as an enormous smile flooded her features. “This is technically my place, but not really. Come on, I moved in last night, let me show you around!” She made a move to lunge for his hand again in excitement, but halfway through the motion stopped short, freezing in place. Sheepishly, she smiled and offered her hand in a more relaxed position, something between a “welcome in” gesture and an offer for him to take it in his own. He offered a smile and his hand in return, and she gave it a quick squeeze before turning and tugging him through the open door.

* * *

 

Keyleth’s first impression of the potential roomie was _tall_. He was easily taller than her, and she was tall in her own right. He had to have maybe five or six inches on her, and she already felt tall to begin with. He was awkward, but a kind unfamiliar to her own overzealous inability to censor or edit her words. It was a formality to him, with a puffed chest and stiff shoulders, as though he was forever in a world of business and politics. There was something antique that tinted his mannerisms, his speech punctuated with words like “forthwith” and “indeed” as he adjusted the round, gold spectacles that perched on his nose, the color a striking contrast with his dark skin.

“So the bottom floor is the flower shop, which I run for my commune, and you just go through here-” she said, leading him through with a gentle tug and a smile. The space was wide, a large studio apartment covered with industrial-style multipaned windows and plants growing over every windowsill or table. One large bed sat in a corner next to a nightstand with an irrationally large stalk of beautiful orange flowers, labelled “Elizabeth- Crown Imperial” in a neat script. Everything else was either covered by flowers or a vase or receptacle for the blossoms that overtook the room. “My cat, Manxy, lives with me, but she’s very sweet and mostly likes to hang out on the roof, in the greenhouse.” Almost as if by cue, a cat that looked more like a lynx than any proper house cat walked through the window and leaped over a row of potted plants to disappear down the stairs. “Any questions?”

“Um, well, quite a few, I’m afraid.” Her smile fell a bit as he nudged the glasses up his nose. “You said you run your flower shop downstairs for a commune of some kind. Do you mind elaborating?”

“Oh, of course. My father is one of the founders and leaders of the Zephera branch of the Ashari hippie communes. I grew up there, but I’ve always wanted to… well, explore, you know? So we’ve had this place to fund us for anything we can’t do or make ourselves, and the old manager wanted to return to the commune, so it turned out pretty well.”

“Fair enough. Now, about the, erm, space,” he said, awkwardly coughing at the end. “It’s a rather open floor plan. I don’t wish to infringe upon your privacy, and I was wondering where lines would be… well, both metaphorically and literally drawn.” A small, bashful smile tugged at the edges of her lips.

“Well, I was thinking curtains. I mean, I understand if that isn’t enough for you, but I like having the open space. Not that I won’t give you your privacy!” she blurted quickly, raising her hands in a gesture of reassurance. “Just that I think that if we get along well enough I want to have it open. If that’s okay with you, I mean.”

“That sounds all right,” he huffed, a settled, dignified look on his face before something dawned in his eyes and his shoulders sank slightly. “I do have a… caveat, I must say. Assuming that I must get it cleared in order to practice within this household, would you mind if I asked you something of a more… delicate, nature?” Her brow furrowed, but she nodded nonetheless, floding her arms and shifting her weight back uncomfortably. “I’m a- well, let’s call it a casual consumer of the plant _cannabis sativa_. Now, I don’t wish to make any assumptions about you and your past in any capacity, as not to offend you or potentially ruin what connection we have fostered thus far, but considering your background in what you describe as a ‘hippie commune’ I must say that I do hope your reaction is aligned with my-”

“Weed.” He jolted to a halt mid-sentence as the flat, emotionless word left her lips and stared at her with large eyes behind thick spectacles. “You smoke weed,” she clarified, an eyebrow slowly raising as she watched his expression shift between uncomfortable and awkward in a myriad of interesting ways.

“Well, to be so blunt- pun unintended, by the way- yes, indeed I do. I completely understand if you are unaccepting of this behavior within the living space and would be happy to take it elsewhere if you so choose, but I figured it would be both polite and customary to inquire.” The florist’s hand moved over her lips and her smile moved to her eyes.

“Yeah, no, you’re fine. Do you want to see the greenhouse?” There was a few moments of pause as he slowly shifted to confusion, but she simply grinned and grabbed his hand. “Come on, we’re going to the greenhouse.”

He was tugged by the hand up another flight of steps, right to the roof where a greenhouse took up all but a thin strip of the area. She only dropped his hand briefly to open the door before grabbing him and pulling him back towards one of the corners.

“These are my own strands, breeds, and crosses. I’ve been breeding plants since I was a kid, and when I started smoking, it seemed like the next logical step.” She dropped his hand and spun to gesture to the plants, grinning wide and her movements excited. It took him a few moments, and when he spoke once more, his words were careful and deliberate.

“… I believe we may get along very well.” A slow smile bloomed across his face and his gaze flicked from the plants to her eager expression. “When can I move in?”

“Oh, I’m so glad that’s settled!” she cried, launching forward and latching around his neck in a quick hug he froze beneath, then gently wrapped his arms around her midsection and awkwardly gave a squeeze before she slipped away. She was laughing, bringing brightness to the slowly dimming light sending its last few rays through the glass walls. He watched as the euphoria faded away and was replaced by something a youthful and a touch mischief as her eyes landed on the corner they’d just been observing. The edges of her lips curled up like she couldn’t contain the eagerness that was bubbling up within her. “You can move in as soon as you like. Wanna share a smoke to celebrate?”

“Well, I would like to move up my things, if possible.” She nodded, her expression sobering and shoulders squaring until she was a model for professionalism and business. “But then, after that, my lady,” he said, blossoming a smile of his own and offering his arm in a move still smooth from years of cotillion, “nothing would please me more.”

* * *

 

"So, do you sample your harvests often?" he asked, a relaxed smile smoothing his features.

"Every full moon, Zahra comes over and we smoke and talk about plants and nature and shit. Oh, and Vax comes to get a contact high. He's cute when he dozes off all hazy and happy. He's usually so serious," she mused, the words rolling off her tongue like marbles amidst the smoke. "You'll meet them both if you stick around. There's... a lot of us. Like, a lot of us. Vax has a twin sister and they both work for Zahra's shop and she has a grumpy live-in friend named Kash and he's a nurse who works with our friend Pike, who's putting in her hours to become a doctor and who has an adopted brother, Grog- well, that's not his real name but that's what everyone calls him- and Grog is like working in anything that has muscle, like construction, being announced on weekends, and he works at the same club our friend Scanlan plays at and that's owed by Shaun Gilmore- who everyone calls by his last name and he used to be a thing with Vax way back when the twins like just got off the streets- and he's one of our friend Percy's main sponsors for like new inventions and drink machines and stuff but he works day-to-day at that one auto shop owned by a crazy guy with three fingers, but he's usually free for shenanigans if we call first." Tiberius stared at her, wide-eyed as he tried to take in her ramblings with a fuzzy mind. She laughed as she caught a look at his face, and shook her head gently before taking another drag.

"Don't worry. You'll probably meet them one by one, or in twos or threes. Not nearly as overwhelming as it seems." He nodded and leaned back, closing his eyes as he took a long breath of smoke. "I hope you like them," she finally added, letting the silence take over the space as her last word left on a sigh.

"I'm sure I will," he agreed before the quiet of a satisfied high settled between them both, the late afternoon sun streaming through the smoke and alighting on air with a golden, homey glow.

* * *

 

The first thing Tiberius set up in the room was a bookshelf. It was a mere foot from the top of the ceiling, and each level had a smattering of books in some archaic organizing system. He moved in a bed and nightstand as well, but the shelving towered over his space, the accompanying armchair giving his side of the room the feeling of an antique. Keyleth kept a close eye on his slowly growing setup as she watered her plants, keeping a watchful gaze half because she wanted to see if he needed help, half from her Manxy-like curiosity. When he was making his last trip down, she took an oak-leaved geranium and set it on the middle shelf with the label reading “Tiberius the Second- Oak-Leaved Geranium”. He didn’t comment when he reentered and set the last box of what she could only assume was more books by his bedside, but she let it go.

A few nights later, Keyleth let herself fall back into bed and as the room blurred slightly around her, thick, black scribbles on the previously pristine white label caught her eye. She looked over to see the flower beside her labeled with a script that was not her own. Below “Elizabeth- Crown Imperial”, it read “ _fritillaria imperialis_ ” in a harsh, blocky script that settled below her neater one. Her eyes scanned the room and a small smile tugged on her lips, noting the thick lines of Latin scrawled on nearly a quarter of her plants.  Within two days, every flower pot had been updated with a scientific name, the Latin in a distinctive handwriting she’d learned to recognize on her ledgers and accounting books.

The weeks moved on, and they became more settled. Plants were now mixed with the piles of books and vice versa, the curtain almost perpetually tied back, their belongings mingling as they became more and more comfortable with each other. Some days Tiberius would come upstairs to find Keyleth sprawled over his armchair, a book in one hand and the other splayed over the backrest, her legs propped up on one of the arms. Other days Keyleth would find him tucked among the bushes and blooms in the greenhouse, reading out loud to Manxy as the cat wove between the planters and pots.

* * *

 

He settled into the group with an ease that warmed Keyleth’s heart and blossomed another flower into the garden of their group. Vax and Vex took him in with a simple ease, introducing themselves with a quick “I’m Vex, he’s Vax, yes, we’re both twins, we’re both tattoo artists, but you’ll get us straightened out in a few months,” an introductory handshake, and they simply moved on. Grog guffawed and crushed the poor man up in his arms before he could even properly get out his name, while Pike gently chided him while trying to hide her snickers behind her hand. She then absolutely crushed his hand with the firmest handshake he’d ever encountered, proving her small size was nothing to be scoffed at as he winced and she simply laughed and joined her brother at the kitchen table. Keyleth couldn’t help but laugh when he met Percy for the first time and the two overlapped their respective rambling introductions, stumbling over each other’s words before kicking off a conversation that spiraled through ideas and concepts so quickly it made her head spin. Scanlan’s introduction was a little less smooth, with the performer’s traditional callous remarks clashing poorly with her new roomie’s more polished upbringing, but amidst the chaos of Gilmore’s Glorious Grogs and Gins, the tension quickly faded and the group fell together once more.

As well as he fit into her friend group, Tiberius fit into her daily life even easier. A few weeks into his residence, they were at complete ease. They worked together and lived together- and relaxed together, too.

“You look like a dragon,” she said, her voice musing and smooth as she took another drag and let the smoke curl easily from between her lips. “Look at you, obscured by the haze, settled on that cushy armchair, surrounded by a hoard of ancient and precious texts…” The words were an outpouring of the wisps and curls, filling the air with the delicate mist that blurred his edges and further cemented the illusion.

“If I’m a dragon, you’re some kind of… flower princess,” he huffed, gesturing widely and swirling the smoke around his fingertips. “I’ve locked you and your blooms up in my dusty tower of knowledge and tomes, but you’re reclaiming it one blossom and greenhouse at a time… Not that I mind, mind you. They are quite lovely and brighten the place up, it is simply that- well, I believe you may have more flowers than the average person. Certainly more exotic ones. I believe you said another one of your colleagues referred to this home as a forest? While in all technical mannerisms they are quite far off, the sentiment is quite true. This is quite the tower of flora,” he rambled, words falling over themselves with little huffs of air punctuating each sentence with its own tone amidst the ramble.

“A dragon and a princess in a tower of flowers.” The words came out a hum, a warm breath of contentment laced thin with lax smoke. “I like it.” There was a long pause as she watched Tiberius bring the lit bundle to his lips and taking a long breath in, then watching the columns stream up from his nose before finally slurring out-

“We’re _baked_.” The laughter was startled out of her, something warm and settled over her heart.

“Completely.”

“Completely,” he hummed.

* * *

 

The full moon was an event within itself, and Keyleth looked forward to it each month. She’d spent the day setting out her small crystals collection in the sun, cleaning the tarot cards Zahra had gifted her in incense, and cooking munchie foods for the group to snack on later in the night. Around five in the afternoon, there was a knock on the door, and the florist slipped away from where she was filling her watering can to open the door to the two near-identical forms leaning against the doorway.

“I brought snacks, the receipt of what you owe me for your latest tattoo, and my idiot brother who wants to hang around for the full moon tonight.” As Keyleth took the proffered boxes of still freezer-cool Girl Scout cookies, Vax rolled his eyes at his sister and she snickered as Vex gave her an easy smile and jabbed her elbow backwards. As he wheezed in pain, she opened the door a bit more and gestured him in. He raised a finger in the air as he slowly righted himself, shoving his sister as she laughed. Behind her, she heard a pile of books go over.

“Princess, I can’t seem to find the watering chart. Which ones need to be done today?”

“Green tabs only today, Tibs,” she called back, but he didn’t seem to hear her as he started to shuffle through piles upon piles of paper held down by books and potted plants.

After a pause, a glance between the twins, Vex finally quipped, “I’m not sure whether I should be kinkshaming you two or congratulating you on your new relationship.” Keyleth’s brow pinched together and she glanced back at where her roommate was rummaging through the heaps of notes upon his desk.

“Vex, just because he’s a _boy_ doesn’t mean we’re-” Her words suddenly stuck in her throat as her friend’s jibe fully processed. “ ** _Oh_** , I- I mean, **_no_** \- we- he’s- no, Vex, it’s-” she stammered, her friend’s smirk growing with each started and stuttered sentence. “He’s a dragon and- oh gods, no it’s- he’s not- I mean we’re not- Vex, _stop laughing_ -” the babbled, arms waving wildly as she glanced between the two figures in her doorway. “We were high,” she finally sighed, sounding defeated and running a hand through her hair.

Vex’s laugh rang through the halls and Vax’s lip curled into something barely resembling a smirk. “She’s only teasing. We know he’s not.”

“Oh, good, I-”

“There’d only be one bed, otherwise.” Keyleth’s words caught in her mouth and it hung in place, jaw just ever so slightly slack as Vax’s smirk morphed into a grin and his sister gasped for breath.

* * *

 

When Tiberius left, Keyleth cried for a week.

He had only popped home for a bit, to grab a few things, wrap up some personal business, and had all plans in place to come right back. When he arrived, though, he hadn’t been expecting the plans and responsibility they would be loading upon him. They’d already signed him up for the college of his ancestors- of _course_ they accepted him, all they’d needed was his _name_ \- and if he didn’t accept, a tremendous amount of money was forfeit. Beyond that, they’d refused to relinquish some of his most prized possessions, holding the antique gifts from his grandfather hostage for his acceptance of their plans for him.

He’d called her that night and explained, wiping away the tears dewing in his eyes as hers flowed freely down her cheeks. She was somewhere between seething with anger and collapsing in defeat, her hands clenching as he described the corner he’d been backed into. Tiberius stayed on the line as she fell sideways, her hair splaying over her pillow as she sobbed.

“You can’t,” she cried, “They- they can’t. They just _can’t_ , you have a job, you have friends, you have a home here, you-” A broken sob escaped from between her lips, cutting off the rest of her rambling. He stayed on the line until she passed out, and was sleeping on the other side when she woke, her hair dried and plastered to the pillowcase.

He came back a few days later to gather his things, and as he did, Keyleth watched, leaning against the doorframe and watching as he tucked his treasure trove of books into boxes, packed what furniture he could into a car and navigated the boxes into the nooks and crannies between. The florist watched as the place formerly occupied by her friend emptied, became a hollow and cavernous presence that loomed over her. As she stared at the few lone pieces of furniture that remained, she couldn’t take it anymore and grabbed a few pots before sprinting downstairs.

He was putting a box in the floor space of the passenger seat when she shoved the pots in his direction.

“Here. Take Doc, Obi, and Maya.” He looked down, taking in the large pots that suddenly weighed heavy in his arms.

“ _Acacia triptera, pelargonium quercifolium,_ and _zinnia peruviana_.” His former roommate gave a watery smile as he turned to place them in the seat beside him.

“I’m gonna miss you, you know.”

“I’ll miss you too, princess.” There was a long pause, and in a sudden movement reminiscent of their first meeting, she launched herself towards him and wrapped him up in her arms, holding him so tight his breath left in a gasp. There was a quiet mumble in his shoulder that it took him a minute to make out, but when he did, he smiled.

“If I’m still your princess, you’re still my dragon.”

“Of course,” he promised.

“You’re still my dragon,” she repeated softly. Finally, they pulled away and he gave her one last squeeze before stepping towards the driver’s seat.  “Text every day,” she blurted.

“I will.”

“And skype in on what full moons you can.”

“Always.”

He smiled and settled into the driver’s seat, sparking the car’s ignition and shifting into gear. He waved, and she waved back, watching as the car slipped into the street and her roommate and friend disappeared into the city, the buildings and sparse traffic swallowing him up as he headed back to a different home.

* * *

 

He’d left her the chair and the bookshelf, the former offering soft, squishy comfort when she curled up with a cup of tea and tried to pretend everything was normal. The latter, however, towered over her. It was empty and hollow, and left a cavernous feeling in her chest no matter how hard she tried to ignore it. Even covered in flowers, it felt odd and out of place without his treasure trove of books and a mish-mash of various objects filling its every nook and cranny.

Eventually, Keyleth couldn't take it anymore. She called up Grog and Percy and hauled the massive hunk of wood into the bed of Bad News. The poor truck was rusted and bent worse than some of the things she'd seen at the junkyard, but Percival had assured her it was more than capable of a simple moving job. The florist flinched as it settled on the truck's bed, the suspension dipping under its weight and making a pained straining noise as all settled. That thing's gonna fall apart halfway there, she thought, but as she, Grog, and Percy crammed into the front, the engine started with a wheeze and whisked them all the way to the mention without more than a few pained noises.

Getting it _in_ the house was a different story.

Because it was nearly as tall as the ceilings in the living room and would scrape the top for its designated room, Grog lifted the bottom while Percy, Scanlan, and Keyleth combined maneuvered the top of the massive piece of furniture through the hallways. There were corners where they got stuck, a few points where Keyleth though they'd have to dismantle the entire thing just to get it in, but after nearly an hour's worth of twisting and turning, it finally came to rest in the guest room. So it stood there, solid, towering, keeping their friend's steady presence with them through the years to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this chapter is essentially an entire fic within itself. And it took forever because I'm at an internship that's eating me alive. Like... I keep fucking up and I swear to god I'm going to get fired at this rate and I'm terrified and desperate to get it right, so if anything, I'm going to be writing comfort stuff for a while. Make myself feel better, I guess. I've also had to take a break from watching the show because not only do I work 7:30-5:30ish for 5 days out of the week, but dammit while the show's not depressing or anything, it's stressful sometimes. And I've been trying to kill stressors ever since I had what I think might have been a mixture panic/anxiety attack at work in front of all my coworkers and my bosses/the keepers. ...Fun week, guys. So thanks for reading through this chapter/my problems, let me know what you think (about the chapter, but hey, if you feel like weighing in on the issues part who am I to say no?), and remember your comments, suggestions, prompts, and critiques are the lights of my life <3


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